Our War Game
by Death Angel5
Summary: The story starts out recently after Endless Waltz with an angsty former soldier named Lizz. [Language, Yaoi hints, Angst]
1. Prologue

Our War Game Written by Elizabeth Ross  
  
Four months in the past  
  
Prologue  
  
"Dekim Barton is dead, there is no cause for battle or war anymore." A voice rang out throughout the colony The crowds of people hustling and bustling halted to a standstill, and took notice to the large screen mounted to the local T.V. news station, known to the citizens as LCT (Local Colony Television). A woman, who looked maybe 20 or so, maybe not even that, appeared on the display. Her hair was combed to light brown perfection. Even the double- breasted business suit was not rumpled.  
  
"There is no point in fighting anymore. Drop your weapons." This indeed was a direct message to those on Earth, where the Marimeia soldiers and those opposing this force clashed. Ever since the young leader, Relena Darlien was kidnapped by the uprising Barton Foundation , the control for the United Earth Sphere was up for grabs.  
  
"The colonies and the earth, shall live and breathe as one." The woman's face was slightly bruised, there were what appeared to be medics rushing around behind her. Ignorant of the scene in back of her, she smiled.  
  
An abrupt cheer erupted from the massed colony residents. It almost seemed that confetti was being thrown, even if it were not the case. Kids hugged their parents, elderly breathed a sigh of relief, and the wives and girlfriends of the soldiers battling on Earth cried; whether it be joy or liberation.  
  
It was indeed, a reprieve to the hearts of the people.  
  
The Barton Foundation was dead; it was gone for good this time. And everyone was free of the ties of war and sorrow.  
  
But how long can peace exist as long as bleeding hearts and conflict is constantly arising among men? Even in times of harmony, there are still forgotten cries of anguish and the constant search for revenge among the disheartened. The question is: Do people truly want this so-called "unity"? 


	2. Questioning of Fate

Present: On the After Colony 197 (April) L6X74326  
  
Questioning Of Fate  
  
The colonies. In the few months on the new "terms of peace" with the Earth, they had steadied themselves. In the north end of L6, a young girl in a gray trench coat wandered the streets. The cars passing by, one after the other, the noise blending in with the sounds of construction work nearby. A commemorative, she supposed. The girl glanced up every now and then at the populace of whom she passed, but mainly kept her head down.  
  
"Damn Dekim, he fucked up his own plan by using Mariemeia Khusrenada as his pawn, She murmured angrily. "His foundation is out of order, now there's no way of conquering and plundering that planet." She kept her voice as quiet as possible, hoping no one would hear her and accuse her of wrongdoing, she had heard that Barton's group was supposedly being hunted down.  
  
The lass made her way up to her humble apartment, the tenants ignoring her as she passed them on the stairs, she usually made these trips several times a day. Whenever questioned about her peculiar jaunts, she would reply with only "out".  
  
"Everything's so quiet." She said vocally, tossing the dark, long coat on a nearby chair.  
  
She caught a glance of herself in the full-length mirror. It's been a while she thought, her hair was a reddish cast to it, much like her.no, she wouldn't think of that now. It surpassed her shoulders, in thick jagged layers.  
  
15 years, the years are passing me by she said silently. Her eyes were a rare amber, and the left was shrouded by a long bang.  
  
She flopped down on the unmade bed, her super-ego reminded her she didn't like an unkempt mess, but she couldn't bother to succumb to it. Not enough sleep, she deduced, yet she knew she really got more than she should have. Immediately, her breathing mellowed. To a rhythm and almost melodic song. Memories plagued her dreams, as the past resurfaced itself and replayed like a home video..  
  
"Lieutenant," the man began, the same girl stood before him. A beige short- sleeved ensemble clothed her; standard of the employees of the Barton Foundation," you're assigned to safeguard Dekim as he journeys to the Earth" He said. The girl nodded, at the age of 10, she was eager for missions.  
  
"Got it. Is the plane ready, Colonel?" she tossed her ear length mane. Colonel Jake of the legendary 5 best nodded. "He waits." He replied. Jake was in his late 30's. In the "prime of his career".  
  
"See you in a week!" she called before starting off and commencing her mission. He was her superior, and much like a babysitter as well.  
  
The girl was brought to the foundation at age 2. Her parents, loyal believers in the Barton's position on the Earth, had brought up their daughter into the world of Dekim's ideals. Originally from L6, they had moved to the distant L3.  
  
She saw nothing wrong with the "dictator's" plans, so young she did not understand such things. So innocent.  
  
The tawny colored eyes opened slowly, her face placid from sleep. And turned towards the open window, as her thoughts began to meander.  
  
Another memory, she'd been having a lot lately; Mom, Dad, L6, & even Barton. It was maybe 3 or 4 years since that point in time. She had lived here since the end of the war. When Barton was assassinated; one of his own, she was told before the girl was discharged. Ha, discharged isn't the word, she left. Everything was pointless. Back to old L6, she knew one day she'd return here. Only the female didn't think it would be so soon.  
  
The wind blew through the window. she shivered lightly. Where was her sweater? The girl didn't know. She didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
What had happened to me? She often wondered. No, not a refugee of war. Nor "ruined by the hostilities". What was she? This girl didn't have an excuse. The girl wasn't like most kids. She didn't care about the war. She had been abandoned because THEY didn't want to stay here anymore. And they had been the ones who had brought her here.  
  
My parents had brought her to Barton. Age 2 or 3 she supposed. She attended the daycare at the left wing at the far end of the lodging. It wasn't until the girl was 6 that they "put her in". When she only thought she was goin for ice cream.  
  
A hired gun. A petty assassin. That's what she was. The child had her own .38 caliber at age 8. When she was at the living quarters, she played with dolls. When she was training, it was guns.  
  
"Water's to be turned off at 4." A voice yelled stridently through the door, almost causing the locks and bolts to tremble.  
  
"Thanks Dean." The young woman yelled to the janitor, not quite as loud, but loud enough. She listened to him amble away, the wheels of his cart squealing as he walked.  
  
There was a red blinking light on the answering machine. When was the last time she had checked that? The lass wondered idly. She pressed it, leaning way back to the bureau.  
  
"Jake here," a voice began, it's gotta be months old, she realized. "You probably know this already, but you're free to go." This message had been left when she still lived in L3. And only had it hooked back up 1 month ago. It was almost ghostly, since the girl knew that Jake McDohl, one of the five legendary, had been shot.  
  
"I've put money in your parents account, take it and go back home." She grasped now that that was where my sudden swelled account had come from.  
  
The last of the message was blurred in the train of thought; she rewound it.  
  
"I'm going to meet with some officials from the Alliance. They're a rough bunch, so I'd appreciate if you came, but you're probably out with your friends, so I'll wait until 8, and then I'll leave. Later."  
  
No, this couldn't be. She had the chance..  
  
"DAMN IT!" The teen hurled it across the room. She didn't care at this point whether it had broken or had been broken. "Damn it!" She reiterated, not as forceful. Repulsion was growing in her stomach. She remembered I had taken a trip downtown that night.  
  
"I could have helped you." she said angrily, the fury directed at her own self. The only one who maybe helped this girl through her training, the only one who was decent to her. And it was completely her own fault. She was devastated.  
  
She took into account the week after, how shocked she was to hear that Jake had been shot. And yet she was so happy to have the money. Finally able to get the fuck out of there.  
  
No, she would forget about it. The girl didn't have much time anyway before she drilled myself into the pavement someday. And to think, she changed with the first month that her folks bit the bullet.  
  
It was a Sunday, and Mom and Dad were assigned to fly to L2, they never came back. I heard that they stayed there. Didn't want the war life anymore. She had just tried to pretend that they had died. And that night, The girl held the pistol up to her head, and that's when her commander came in and said: "Don't do it, Ross. We need you in L4 tomorrow morning."  
  
Goddamn.  
  
The reports all said she was a "cooperating child". Now she was known as Barton's brat. When he took the brown-haired girl in, the "poor orphan" under his wing, she was just beginning to demand for special training, more money, etc.  
  
Anyway.  
  
The tears were beginning to sting. And she rubbed them away with my hand. Something, to maybe take her mind off this. That was what she needed.  
  
She flicked on the T.V.  
  
"Cop Show." She laughed.  
  
They were on the trail of a supposed "assassin". Again she chuckled. That's what she was. An assassin. She remembered fondly and at the same time bitterly the first time she was taught how to pull the trigger. Her favorite automatic was tucked away safely in her coat pocket, waiting for her the next time she put it on.  
  
"Next."  
  
Channel 12, the colony L6 news station. That had to have been better than a production where the actors looked like they used plastic toy guns.  
  
"In other news, Miss Darlien is making a visit to the colonies, her first since being captured. "  
  
"Tell us Miss Relena, are you nervous about returning to the colonies, with Barton's soldiers still possibly lolling around?"  
  
She should be. The young woman thought.  
  
"No, of course not. There is true peace now."  
  
"Thanks to you of course."  
  
Thanks to you of course Miss Relena. the brown-haired girl mocked. She flicked off the set. Mariemeia was such a stupid pawn, she thought. Treize didn't leave a lot of his characteristics with his heir.  
  
Something was gnawing at her inside; but she couldn't place her finger on it. She knew that whenever she got that feeling that she was craving something.  
  
"What is there left to do?" she speculated out loud. Having that abrupt sentiment of energy.  
  
"Man cannot survive without conflict." She stated vocally. How often had she heard former soldiers saying how they missed the battlefield?  
  
"The government, the united government, is taking advantage of the population's sense of rejuvenation." The girl thought it to be funny how the system had started with more mass production, and more trading. "It's all political."  
  
Especially that Relena Peacecraft.  
  
There's gotta be more who feel the same way, who agree that things are too perfect.  
  
The phone rang, and she clamored to get it, since it was in the small walk in kitchen. She answered it, and smirked when she recognized the person on the other line.  
  
"I was just thinking about you."  
  
[To be Continued.] 


	3. Old friends; Strangers clash

On the After Colony 197 (April) L6X74326  
  
Old Friends; Strangers Clash  
  
The girl checked her watch; "5:15" she announced out loud. The dark alley was behind the clock tower, the chiming of the hour only several minutes before declared rush hour for L6. When will she be here? She griped silently, sitting on a gray-lidded trashcan. Her sneaker feet dangled.  
  
Oh what was she doing here? Meeting an old friend in a place like this? She had spoke too quickly and let her heart jump ahead of her and take complete control. Her intellect told her she was making a mistake, especially when she didn't have a plan of action.  
  
It was just a silly idea she thought, wishing a trap door would open and she could escape. Idiot!  
  
The abrupt clearing of a throat interrupted her thoughts. There, a young, tall girl stood.  
  
"Nichole Snow, it's been a while." The ocher-eyed girl verbalized quickly, snapping back to reality. The young woman had almost jet-black hair save for the brownish blond streaks at the front; which were noticeably fading. Her eyes were a green, which the shorter lass had never seen before; they chilled her how they seemed to see right through her. Nichole's skin was pale, detectably pale.  
  
"What made you call?" she said, jumping off the lid.  
  
"Can't I call a former comrade?" Nichole teased.  
  
The shorter girl sighed and looked away; I knew this was a bad idea. She griped wordlessly. Nichole caught sight of this, and raised an arched eyebrow.  
  
"What's the matter? You got somethin' to say?" She wore tight black pants that were matched by knee-high boots, her "bitch boots" as the girl would later find out, a chain belt around her waist, and a blood red tank top.  
  
"You guessed it."  
  
"Let's set it out straight," Nichole said, placing a hand on my hip. "You need my help, don't you?"  
  
Nobody comes looking for a friend 4 years later. She knew this girl; "Lizz", as she went by in the past. If you asked the young woman now, she wouldn't know, She didn't keep in touch; it was a fault of hers.  
  
The brown-haired girl just glanced away.  
  
Bingo, she thought, smirking silently.  
  
She had met Elizabeth Ross when they attended Dekim's school for girls. It was when she was in the.  
  
"Still in the militia?" Lizz asked her, she could swear the auburn- haired girl read her mind.  
  
"No, and changing the subject won't help either." Her beating around the bush was irritating Nichole. Why couldn't people just come out and be honest? She wouldn't get involved unless she was asked.  
  
"Sorry." She gave the impression as if she was apologetic. "How long have you been out?" she paused. "Of the mercenaries, I mean."  
  
"1 year." Her facial expressions widened slightly, The dark-haired girl knew she was thinking about: the fact that she was out before Lizz was.  
  
"You turned into a brat." The pale female stated bluntly, almost bored.  
  
That girl turned into a first-class monster. And she was in denial after her parents left her. Smart people, escaping the organization. Before things started getting severe. Quite an intelligent decision. It was inevitable that things would get too serious, and her parents were the kind of people that avoided conflict.  
  
"You were released sooner than I was."  
  
Much like this short freak is doing right now. Nichole laughed quietly to herself. She ignored her, however.  
  
It brought back the memories of the past, upon their being mentioned of. She was in the big leagues, as they all used to call it. Espionage, Spy- work, under-cover missions, these were all what the girl did. And it wasn't anything like it was in the cinema.  
  
She was a soldier since 10, a good soldier. The kind that obeyed and was ordered around. Like every woman should learn how to do; in her opinion.  
  
"I hear you disappeared into L7, homesick?" Lizz inquired.  
  
She swallowed deeply, almost feeling sick.  
  
Her parents fought a lot when the family still lived in L7, he wanted to join, and she didn't. They argued on a daily basis. She first wanted to join at 9. The theory of battle first intrigued her mind at the young age of 6. Her father had been the first to pilot a prototype Leo, and she supposed she wanted to follow in his footsteps to see how he lived his life.  
  
She was a quiet child, and when Dad finally convinced Mom to take her to L3, it was like therapy. To get over the past memories back home. War was everything, and when you could keep a one-track mind about it, it was even better. Piloting was always easier when you were angry at the world.  
  
The last time Nichole saw her mother was 1 year ago, and she threatened to kick the teenager out of her house. That was why she didn't go back after that. Dad died within the first 3 years, plant explosion. Chemicals with chemicals that didn't belong together.  
  
"Still alive in there?"  
  
"Huh?" she mumbled, tripping over her words, Lizz look at her with a stupid lopsided grin. It was getting on her goddamn nerves. She was still trying to pretend like this was a chance meeting, or something along that line. Eventually she was going to have to admit that it wasn't the case.  
  
Nichole idly flipped her perfect near-raven hair. "Get to the point, kid." She stated bluntly. Lizz' looked like the cat that caught the bird. Damnit she swore, looking at Nichole straight in the face.  
  
"I need your help, Ni-chan," the auburn haired girl said, taking a deep breath. "And you just happened to call me at the time when I had a great idea." She had to keep her nervousness under control, which was one of the secrets to obtaining what you wanted in this life.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Ok here goes, I need your help, on roundingupsomeotherpeopletokindofchangethingsbecauseIdon'tlikethewaythingsar egoing." Lizz said too quickly, catching her breath.  
  
Nichole blinked, "What was that? I didn't quite grasp all of that."  
  
"Sorry, it's a habit of mine."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Anyhow, have you noticed the way things are going? Not quite up to standard are they?" the ocher-eyed young woman said, raising an already arched brow.  
  
"Yeah, it's apparent that they planned this from the beginning; you know. It's completely biased, they probably only wanted the war over because everyone knows war is bad for business. And that's less money for those bastards."  
  
"What about that Relena Peacecraft?"  
  
"She may have experienced the war firsthand, but she knows nothing of the heartache the soldiers go through when the only thing they know is over. Believe me, the leaders of today are taking more power than they should have."  
  
Lizz smirked.  
  
That smile, Nichole shuddered, it seemed almost conceited.  
  
"Did you know that the Unified Nations are searching for old soldiers of Dekim? We could be next."  
  
The paler girl scoffed, "What for? They said themselves there's no need for soldiers in this world. Where did you hear this?"  
  
"The news last week." Lizz said. "But you and me both know that they just don't trust Dekim's old puppets."  
  
"What is it, termination? Jail?"  
  
"Don't know, but still, after all this time, we haven't found the freedom we've sought for."  
  
Nichole leaned against the brick wall. "And so you want a revolution of sorts." She supposed, almost liking where this was going.  
  
"I want a change." Lizz said, realizing now her selfish reasons no longer held ground in this argument, now she had a new cause to strive for. Just talking with Nichole gave her new insight on the situation, on information she already knew.  
  
"And that's why you need my help. You figured use the war-aholic."  
  
Lizz punched her friend playfully in the arm, "Nah, just figured you could find some of your old contacts since I threw mine out in the move."  
  
"Like I said. Use the war-aholic."  
  
Lizz hopped off the lid, only now realizing the height difference. "It's a rebellion of sorts, I suppose."  
  
"Here the colonies go again, with the war."  
  
"WAR?!!!" The auburn haired female yelled, Nichole shot her a look that said to shut the fuck up. She didn't like it when people tried to restrain her. Especially when they used force.  
  
"SHUT-UP!" Do you want the whole colony to know? You don't really think you can change the system without a war, now do you?" she said, still holding the girl's arm. "Look what change came out of the last one, a lot, yes, but not enough."  
  
Lizz shook off her "friend's" grasp. "Dekim's old L6 Factory hasn't been demolished yet." She said, realizing that if any result was going to come, it would have to be with violence."  
  
"My skills are extremely useful, I would like to join you." Nichole declared. She was getting sick of the formalities. She extended her hand.  
  
Lizz thought this over. She came here, not really knowing what the hell she was doing, and here she was, plotting war! She had come with only a gun, a stick of chewing gum and a grudge in her pocket. I must be losing my mind. She thought to herself.  
  
Nichole had only been in the area to look for an apartment when her address book fell open. Coincidently, it had opened to the girl's page, with her new address on it. At this point, she was know offering her services and maybe even friendship to Lizz.  
  
"Why not. And by the way, yes it is still Lizz." The brown-haired girl laughed, taking Nichole's hand and shaking it gingerly. The teenager with the green eyes nodded. Nichole looked 16, or maybe 17, Lizz wasn't sure of her age.  
  
"I thought you had sworn off of friends when Dekim died."  
  
"I did. I was a real bitch back then. I thought I didn't need them."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"Let's just wait and see."  
  
Nichole chuckled at that, in an almost fake laughter. But was rather pleasing to the ear. All that Lizz needed was to feel like she belonged, she realized. Seeing that the girl's bratty behavior in the past could be summed up to the loss of her parents. This is going to be one hell of a ride. Nichole sighed to herself. This was going to be.well, Lizz' fragility was a rather hidden burden. And if something happened like with her parents, she could return to that attitude.  
  
Nichole knew Lizz wasn't fully changed, not in the span of half an hour. And that she could ask anytime now how much Nichole really wanted to join her, and maybe even hit her with a fee of some kind. Why am I even doing this? She groaned, half to herself, half out loud.  
  
Lizz knew she was going to have to reform herself if she was going to work on a team. Her selfish-ness had started only a few years back, and had grown considerably since then. If she turned out to be a brat now, the whole project would be lost. Nichole wasn't going to bother with that. Her recent life she had gotten everything she had by manipulating, and by not working when she didn't get paid her amount. She had no excuse anymore. Lizz remained silent in her private thought.  
  
"Hey, half dead, I'm cutting out, okay?' Nichole said, cracking her fingers.  
  
"Okay, Keep your eye out for anybody who seems like they wanna join, okay?" Lizz said, swiftly changing her thoughts. Nichole nodded, and the pair promised to talk to the other later on. Nichole hopped over the side of the fence, and Lizz barely heard her land, but knew it must have been with catlike grace.  
  
"Well, I better get the hell outta here." Lizz supposed, looking around, the air seemed too humid, or maybe it was the long coat. Perhaps she should get rid of it? Maybe she didn't need it anymore.  
  
The trench-coated girl shrugged and strolled out towards the busy street exit of the alley. Not too busy, that was L6. But in rush hour, it was busy enough. L6 was a humble settlement, but the government was too pressuring here.  
  
Lizz didn't even take care to notice that she wasn't the only one outside the exit of the alley. All she felt was a hard collision before she was bumped back upon her ass and the sight of a concerned pair of bright bottle green eyes.  
  
"Ouch!!" she yelled, her butt aching with the pain of being pushed onto pavement. She stared up over her, where two figures loomed over her.  
  
"Watch where you're going, trench-coaty!" a kid-like voice shouted. Lizz followed the voice to a girl who wore a yellow tank top, and green combat pants. Her eyes were a pure red and a tan color blended perfectly. They were naturally wide, with huge irises so the tint stood out. As for her hair, it was chin-length, and blond with almost light brown streaks through it.  
  
"Sorry, it was my fault." A taller than the blonde, girl spoke. Her voice was sound, and apologetic. This girl's hair was a mass of beautiful dark curls, about the same length of the blonde's. Her skin was golden and earthy, whereas the kiddie's was reddish toned. She handed out her palm, and Lizz guardedly took it, and the curly haired girl helped her to her feet. She smiled at her; the auburn haired lass deduced she was maybe 15.  
  
"Don't let her off THAT easy, Kris." The blonde warned.  
  
Kris? Lizz pondered to herself. She was almost in a daze.  
  
"Shush, Becky. Don't listen to her." The one Lizz had heard been called "Kris" laughed.  
  
Lizz dusted off her behind. "Thanks, I'd better be going off now."  
  
Becky outstretched her arm, "Not till you apologize."  
  
Kris looked exasperated; Lizz felt sympathy towards the girl, for she looked not amused. The short one, who looked maybe 14, at the MOST, gave off the impression that there was more to her small frame then what met the eye.  
  
"Sorry." Lizz mumbled, trying to push her way by. The blonde was itching for a fight, and it got on her nerves.  
  
Not today, please not today. Lizz pleaded inside her head, she considered herself weak physically and emotionally, and knew that she couldn't handle it.  
  
"Becky, I swear." Kris growled, almost protectively. Was she defending Lizz? Becky wondered to her short self.  
  
But the flaxen haired girl figured Kris was just being Kris, and just wanted to shield this.. girl, from her sometimes violent manner. The one in the trench coat looked at her with eyes that gave off some kind of emotion. The girl looked like the type who was fragile, and should be scared. And perhaps she was, but to Becky, right now she just looked impatient.  
  
Kris pulled back on Becky's shoulder, informing her that she didn't like this. The brown-eyed girl nodded. "Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, 's okay." Lizz said, moving past the short lass.  
  
Becky and Kris watched her walk off down the street.  
  
"You did it again." Kris growled, shaking her head.  
  
"Sorry." Becky said contritely. Just then, her eyes caught sight of a somewhat large hoary (*A.N: It means silvery, just for all your feeble minds) silver cross; it was linked to a gray silver pendant.  
  
Strange. Becky thought to herself.  
  
"What's that?" Kris asked, looking over Becky's shoulder.  
  
"I don't know." Becky's orbs scanned the piece of silver. It had something sad about it, the fact that it had once belonged to someone.  
  
"There's an inscription on the back." Kris noted. She reached over Becky to take it into her own hands. The metal felt cool against her fingers.  
  
She read it silently: Elizabeth, AC 189. Love Mommy & Daddy  
  
"Love Mommy & Daddy"  
  
There was a small code on the back, a number of sorts.  
  
This had been quite special to someone, Kris realized. She knew what she had to do. It was her duty.  
  
"What's it say?" Becky asked, still waiting her friend's answer.  
  
Kris turned around. When she actually become serious about something, she got extremely passionate about it. That was just who she was.  
  
If she didn't return this to whoever this "Elizabeth" person, she'd never forgive herself.  
  
"We're going to find out who this belongs to, Becky." The curly haired girl declared. Becky cocked her head to the side.  
  
The colony was shutting off its "sun" and putting up its "night" sky. Why they even bothered, nobody knew.  
  
"I guess we could place an ad in the 'paper." Becky sighed, closing her eyes .  
  
"Come on!" Kris urged, pulling the blonde's hand along with her down the street, and into the fading light.  
  
[To be Continued.] 


End file.
